


Doubt and Loneliness

by jaybird_elliott2020



Series: Son of Robin [11]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Bruce Wayne, Alpha Cassandra Cain, Alpha Jason Todd, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bruce Wayne is a Good Dad, Depiction of Abortion, Discussion of Abortion, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Motherhood, Omega Damian Wayne, Omega Stephanie Brown, Omega Tim Drake, Past Abuse, Post-Abortion, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tim Drake is Damian's MOm, past toxic relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:07:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26000887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaybird_elliott2020/pseuds/jaybird_elliott2020
Summary: Tim has a hard time dealing with certain aspects of motherhood and thinks that he is entirely alone.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Series: Son of Robin [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1839805
Comments: 5
Kudos: 80





	1. Skin to Skin

The first time Tim Drake held his son was twelve hours after he was born.

“Hold your arms like that … good,” the nurse said. Without another word she deposited the entirely too small baby into Tim’s waiting arms.

He was too afraid to move.

The baby was disconnected from what Tim had begun to call the “glowworm light” but they still had the IV in and the stand rolled snug against the chair Tim sat in. He wasn’t swaddled like Tim thought he might be. He was wearing a diaper and a hospital onesie that gave the doctors quick and easy access to all his ports. He didn’t open his eyes.

“He’s not opening his eyes, does that mean something? Should—shouldn’t he be opening his eyes?” Tim said. His voice was cracking and he was searching for answers in the nurse’s face.

“It’s ok. He’s just sleepy. Wouldn’t you be after having people poking at you all day? He’s barely a day old.” She sounds a little annoyed, so Tim doesn’t ask any more questions.

Instead he focuses on his newborn son.

His newborn son who looks too small to be healthy. His newborn son who is surely going to die in the next few days. His newborn son who he hadn’t even wanted to come into existence.

Tim thinks for a moment.

The baby, who may die, is one that Tim hadn’t planned for, that he had denied love and care throughout his pregnancy. Tim starved himself until he couldn’t, worked himself until he couldn’t, pushed himself until he couldn’t: all to hopefully get rid of the baby in his arms. He hadn’t wanted to be a mother, he didn’t think he would make a good one. He thought his son would be better off dead.

In the same half a second it took for all these thoughts to resurge in Tim’s mind, there also came overwhelming sadness.

Damian hadn’t been planned, or maybe wanted in the beginning, but now he was here and he was fighting and he was breathing and all Tim could think of was bringing him home and keeping him safe. He imagined winter nights with a little boy in footie pajamas who liked hot coco with more marshmallows than liquid. He imagined summer afternoons with an older boy who ate popsicles on the steps of the Manor’s back porch, dripping juice down his chin. He imagined fall mornings with a child who buried himself in blankets but still sought Tim’s warmth. He imagined a baby, his baby, forming his mouth around his first words. He imagined the baby calling out for him. He imagined being called “Mom.”

He imagined the bad stuff too. Like early mornings where he just needed five more minutes of sleep, but his colicky baby was screaming at the top of his lungs. Or being called at work to pick up his son from school because he got in another fight. Or having to hold his son while he cried about how the other kids bullied him for being different, unable to really do anything about it. Or rubbing his son’s back while he throws up and runs a fever. Or rushing his son to the hospital when he falls off the top of a playset and breaks his arm. Or his first heartbreak. His first heat. His first time. His first sleepover. His first time sleeping through the night. His first time opening his eyes.

But even all the bad stuff warms Tim’s heart, because it would be theirs.

“It’s time for him to go back under the light,” the nurse said.

Tim looked up from his son’s face. He could feel the tears in the corners of his eyes. Suddenly he can’t imagine letting Damian go. He wants to keep him here, against his chest so he knows he’s ok.

“Just a few more minutes, please?” Tim pleaded.

“I’m sorry,” the nurse replied.

Tim rocked Damian gently, raised him to his lips, kissed him on the forehead.

“I love you so much, Damian,” Tim whispered, just to his son, just to his newborn baby.

He gave Damian over to the nurse who took him and the IV stand back to his clear bassinet. It hurt. And that’s when Tim thinks that maybe he _is_ cut out for this.

And that’s also when he’s so afraid that it will hurt like this all the time.


	2. Morning Feeding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think Bruce is honestly a good dad. He tries his best. He has trauma too and he fucks up. But yeah, Good Dad! Bruce is my whole heart.

The first time Tim feels like a mother, Damian’s is eight months old.

It had been hard being away from Damian for so long and Tim still felt responsible for the separation. He didn’t let himself off the hook and he didn’t think he ever would. His son had been kept in darkness and been ill-fed and alone. What kind of mother was he for letting that happen?

Tim is lying awake in his bed, counting how many times he can hear the grandfather clock in Bruce’s office make a noise before it chimed on the hour. He has his hand on his stomach, running over the stretch marks the dip below his waistband. He hates them. He hates the memory of being pregnant and all the things that came from it. He thinks sometimes, he hates Damian but it’s hard when the baby depends on him for everything. He has to force himself to ignore the voice in the back of his head telling him to abandon the baby at the GFD.

Damian lets out a wail.

Tim gets out of bed slowly, padding to the nursery and looking through the crack in the door. Damian is rocking side to side, trying to wriggle out of the tight swaddle that Bruce put him in after his bath. The soft blue glow of the nightlight in the corner of the little room isn’t enough to see his face properly, but Tim can tell it’s turning red. He’s frustrated.

“What do you want?” Tim grumbles, pressing his forehead into the wall by the door. He hasn’t gone in.

Damian hears his mother’s voice and cries even louder.

“No, no, no, don’t cry. Please don’t cry,” Tim pleads. He is moving out of the crack in the door so his back was pressed into the wall and he couldn’t see into the nursery. His hands are shaking a little.

He tries to ground himself out, not let the noise of his frustrated infant overwhelm him as much as it has begun to. He wants to feel like he is in control of something, anything at all.

Tim sinks to the floor and covers his mouth with his bicep. He bites into the skin as hard as he can, trying to focus on the pain rather than his accelerated heartbeat. He stays like that for a whole minute, baring his teeth until there’s a metallic taste spilling over his tongue.

“Tim?” Bruce calls out.

Tim nearly jumps out of his skin.

Bruce is standing over him, looking between the nursery and his adopted son. He goes and gets Damian out of his crib, cradling him gently and shushing him. Bruce is familiar, so Damian quiets down.

“Hey, you ok?” he asks, sitting on Tim’s bed and looking down.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Tim repeats.

“Ok.”

Bruce moves Damian so he’s laid out across his thighs. Even though he’s eight months, Damian is still so small. He fits in six-month-old onsies. Sometimes, Tim worries he’s not growing, but then he remembers what it was like to hold the baby when he was newborn and assures himself that Damian is growing just fine.

“Hi buddy, you better now?” Bruce asks Damian, smiling brightly at the sniffling, red face on his lap.

“He might need a diaper change,” Tim says. He stands up and wipes his arm off with his sleeve before walking over to Bruce.

Bruce lifts Damian and hands him to Tim, who takes the baby to the changing table by the door. Tim has to shuffle some things around to clear a space on the pad for Damian to lay down. Usually he just puts his son on the floor and changes him. Right now though, it’s dark and he knows there’s computer crap and dirty laundry and his Red Robin uniform all over the floor and Damian has taken to eating anything he can fit in his fist.

Tim quickly changes Damian’s diaper and is about to pick him up and try to get him back to sleep when he notices Damian is rubbing his eyes and squirming uncomfortably. His brow is wrinkled. His lip is wobbling. He’s going to start crying again, Tim knows it.

“Please don’t cry,” Tim pleads, quietly so Bruce can’t hear how desperate his voice is. “Please baby. It’s ok.”

Tim brushes a thumb across his son’s forehead, sending him into a full fit of screams and cries.

“No, no, no,” Tim says.

He tries to swaddle Damian again. Damian squirms harder. He tries to rub his belly. Damian rolls away. He tries to give him a pacifier. Damian spits it out.

“I don’t know what you want!” Tim growls in frustration, which does nothing to help his screaming child calm down. His hands are clenching around the edges of the table so hard his knuckles turn white. His jaw is so tight he can hear his ears ring. His eyes are watering and he’s sniffling back tears.

“Tim. Tim,” Bruce says, gently. He’s walking over. “Go sit down. Over there. In the rocking chair.”

Tim wipes his eyes and shakes his head. He pushes Bruce’s hand away from where it’s going to rest on his back.

“No! No, I can do this. I can do this,” Tim barks, he picks Damian up and tries to rock him. “C’mon, c’mon. It’s ok. It’s fine. We’re fine. You don’t have to cry. We’re fine.”

He repeats himself over and over again until the words lose all meaning. He’s crying by then, quieter than his son, but still loud enough they can both be heard.

“Tim,” Bruce says again. His voice is soft. He’s resting a hand on the spot between Tim’s shoulder blades. He rubs a tiny circle there before gently grabbing Damian under the arms and lifting him from Tim’s hold. Tim is reminded of the day in the hospital, when Damian’s father took him, and he has to hold himself back from taking Bruce down. He reminds himself that Bruce would _never_ take his son away from him. “The rocking chair. Go sit. Please.”

Tim sniffles and drags himself pitifully to the rocking chair by his bed where occasionally he and Damian will read a book or have a bottle together. Once he’s seated, Bruce comes over, holding Damian who’s begun to quiet down slightly.

“Take a breath,” Bruce demands.

Tim takes a sharp inhale, holds for a three count and exhales slowly. He repeats this a handful of times before the tears stop and his heart feels less like it could power a Destroyer across the Atlantic.

“Ok. Now, my money has it that Damian’s hungry. It’s four. You’re usually coming back from patrol about now most nights and you feed him when you get in, right?”

Tim nods. _Fuck_ , he thinks, _why didn’t I think of that._

“So, what I’m going to do is hand him over and you’re going to feed him,” Bruce narrates as he does just that. “Do you want me to stay or go?”

“Stay. Please,” Tim responds, settling Damian in a comfortable position for both of them as he undoes the buttons on his pajama shirt.

“Ok. I’ll stay. Gonna sit right here and stay,” Bruce assures. He crouches so he’s sitting on the floor by Tim’s bed, leaning his back into the side and sighing. He closes his eyes.

Tim thinks he must have been sleeping when Damian woke him. Bruce gets about three hours of sleep on good nights so naturally Tim feels bad for interrupting it. But he’s so glad that he has family like Bruce making things easier. If he had been on his own, like he expected to be by now, he would have broken down for half an hour and _then_ figured out Damian needed to be fed.

There was something about having a baby—someone who you were responsible for that couldn’t communicate their needs—that put Tim on fucking edge.

Damian is suckling and Tim is hissing a little because Damian’s teeth have started to push past his gums and fuck if they’re sharp. He knows he should wean Damian soon before he gets his nipples chewed off, but he likes breast feeding. It’s one of the things he knows he’s good at, one of the things he feels ok with Damian depending on him for.

“See,” Bruce says, triumphant as much as he could be looking at his son and grandson through half-lidded eyes, “told you, he’s just hungry.”

“I should’ve known,” Tim barks, jostling Damian a little causing the baby to press harder into his tender chest. “Ow, ow, ow!” He pries the baby off and flips him to the other nipple. Damian takes it with stride.

“S’okay. You’re tired. You’re stretched thin. I get it. Really.”

“But I shouldn’t be,” Tim snaps. Damian sighs loudly and Tim watches his eyes drift shut. “I should be better than this. For him.”

“You are,” Bruce declares.

“Then I should have known he was hungry, right? I should have remembered that I feed him at four when I get back from patrol, even if I’m not on patrol. I should know that my own son needs something from me, shouldn’t I?!” Tim’s voice is shaking and breaking. He sniffles a little and wipe his eyes. “Why is this so fucking hard?”

“I don’t know.”  
  


Tim chuckles through tears. “You telling me not even _Batman_ knows how to be a mom? Wow. I’m shocked.”

Bruce laughs a little too, then gives Tim an understanding smile. “I don’t think _anyone_ really knows how to be a parent. Look at me. Technically, I have four kids and they all came to me after the age of ten, but I still managed to produce a needy, overprotective son, a borderline villan-type daughter, a teen mom, and … well Jason died. Enough said there.”

Tim’s chest feels hallow.

“It’s not supposed to come easy. It’s not an instinct. It’s trail and error. It’s learning everyday what to do for your kid. What they need from you. And it’s going to change. And it’s going to be frustrating. And you’re going to get it wrong. But as long as you look out for him, love him, _protect_ him, everything’s going to be ok. I promise.”

Tim nods. Damian is asleep now, snoring softly and letting Tim’s nipple fall out of his mouth. Tim readjusts him and buttons his shirt up, before rocking him gently again.

“I just,” Tim begins. He cuts himself off with a long sigh. Bruce waits patiently for him to continue. “I want him to be happy. What if I’m … what if me keeping him … what if he’s not happy with me?”

Bruce leans forward, so his elbows are rested on his knees and he stares very intensely at his son. All semblance of sleep has vanished from him. “He will be. You are a good mother.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because you love him.”

Bruce stays with Tim for the rest of the night, nodding off with his back against his bed. Tim goes between looking at his son and looking at his adoptive father. He thinks long and hard about if he’s doing the right thing for his child. He wonders if it’s selfish of him to keep his son when his life is so broken and he’s so young. He’s sure that someone else could give him a better life. Some Gotham couple who have _wanted_ a child for years, who are old enough to drink or vote and take care of someone else. But then, when he’s setting Damian down in his crib and the baby stirs a little and his baby blue eyes flutter open and lock with Tim’s, all his doubt washes away. Because Bruce was _right_. Tim loved him. And that was going to be enough.


	3. Family Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok guys. I did lots of research to make this chapter accurate! It's pretty graphic in my opinion so read at your own risk. Please let me know if I forgot to tag anything or if something is misrepresented. Love as always
> 
> \--Jason

The first time Tim gets pregnant after Damian, he goes through a deep depression.

It’s strange, because Tim hasn’t felt this way in a long time. He had taken Jason advice when they saw each other at his Chinatown safehouse and gotten himself a therapist. He saw her twice a week at first. They talked in depth about what it was like for him being a teen mom and recovering from an abusive relationship at the same time. Tim didn’t really talk about anything with anyone, preferred to keep his cards close to his chest (because knowledge was all he had), so it was nice to have someone who legally couldn’t use his words against him. Though it took longer than he’s willing to admit for them to really start talking honestly.

But, after Jason leaves Gotham, after they have sex the first time, he spirals a bit. He plays the night over in his head. He remembers himself telling Jason that he could knot him. He remembers what happened the last time he let someone knot him.

A few days after Jason left, he bought ten pregnancy tests and kept them under the bathroom sink. There was a reminder on his phone to take the test two weeks later. There was another reminder for three weeks, just for peace of mind.

Tim doesn’t end up needing the second reminder because the first test he takes at the two-week mark, is positive.

He sits on the floor, clutching the stick in his hand so hard he can hear the plastic cracking. The first thing he wants to do is call Jason. He wants to talk this through with him, figure out what the best course of action is, because he’s always trusted Jason’s judgement and the last time he was pregnant he helped so much. And he would never tell Tim was he _should_ do.

Then, Tim is angry. He’s angry at himself for not using a condom, despite the fact that the same mistake two years ago brought him Damian (not that he didn’t love his son but the process getting there was long and painful and still going on). He’s angry at Jason for not being there next to him, an ocean and a couple mountain ranges away. He’s angry at the world for letting this happen _again_.

And he’s sad too, because he knows that he loves Jason, even now. He knows that if he called him from his bathroom floor, Jason would answer the phone and listen to Tim cry. He would hush him and come back. He would drop everything and come back to Tim. And that kind of breaks his heart because he also knows that Jason isn’t ready for the responsibility of being a parent to a child (sure he’s been there for Damian, but he has no _obligation_ to him, to either of them, he has an out). Jason would let Tim decide what to do and since Jason would be with him, Tim would want to have the baby. He would want his son to have a sibling and for the four of them to be a family.

It reminds him too much of when he was fifteen and searching for love in the arms of an alpha who hated his guts. The whole reason he kept Damian was because he thought that him, Damian’s father, and their son would be a family just like he was wanting from Jason. He knows that he’s too young, not ready for another baby, as much as he wants to convince himself otherwise.

So, he makes his choice on the bathroom floor and he doesn’t tell anyone.

~ ~ ~

The doctor at the clinic just prescribes a pill.

“Alright, now you’re going to take the mifepristone now and some anitbiotics. Take all of them, okay? The misoprostol is going to go to the pharmacy out in Bristol, that’s still where you get your meds right?”

“Yeah.” Tim takes the little white cups from the doctor and downs the pills, chasing them quickly with water.

“Ok. So you’re going to pick those up today and in about 24 hours you’ll take the misoprostol. There are four pills. You put two in either side of your mouth and wait 3 minutes until they dissolve and then swallow. There’s gonna be heavy cramping and bleeding and that’s normal. You can take Motrin or any type of ibuprofen. No aspirin. Hot water bottles usually help too. The fetus will pass easily, you won’t even notice it. It’s about the size of a pinhead right now. You’ll still know when because the bleeding will slow down. You’re going to want to take it easy for a day or two, but you can go back to work or school or life whenever you feel up to it. Any questions?”

“Uh … should … should I get someone to watch my kid.”

That doctor smiles a little. “How old?”

“Two and a half.”

“I would get someone to watch them. Trust me you’re not gonna want to be chasing a toddler around while you feel gross and crampy.”

“Have you taken it?”

“No, but my sister, she has. It was a couple years ago, she had a four-year-old then. Girl. I had to come over last minute to help her out because she couldn’t get out of bed.”

“Oh,” is all Tim says.

“How do you feel?”

“Nervous.”

“Have you talked to anyone about your decision?”

“No.”

“Most of my patients find the process easier when they have someone there to support them. A partner or a parent or a sibling, even a friend.”

“I don’t … I’m kinda on my own right now.”

“No one’s ever truly alone in this world, Mr. Wayne. I’m sure if you look, you’ll find that there are plenty of people you can turn to who could help.”

Tim wrinkles his brow. “Maybe.”

“Ok. Call if you need anything. Here’s some more detailed information on what’s going to happen in the next few days, also some things to look out for. Have a nice day.”

~ ~ ~

Steph comes over.

“Thanks for taking Damian,” Tim says. “I’m just … I’m swamped right now.”

“Yeah,” Steph chuckles. “Yeah, I get it. You stretch yourself out so much, I’m surprised you haven’t snapped yet.”

“You’re sure you don’t mind him spending the night too? I know it’s a lot to ask, keeping you from patrol and all, but Bruce is deep in this drug case right now and Dick and Babs are in Blüdhaven but I can—”

“Tim, it’s fine. Seriously. I love Damian. Cass loves Damian. We also love you. And if you need something from us, then we’re gonna do our best to give it to you.”

Tim throws his arms around Steph’s neck, burying his nose in her scent gland. They’ve always been affectionate towards one another (even had a little fling before Tim got together with Damian’s dad—ultimately deciding they were better friends than lovers), but the sudden display, catches Steph off guard.

She reaches up slowly and rubs Tim’s back.

“Hey,” she mumbles. “What’s this all about?”

Tim shakes his head and pulls away. “Nothing, sorry, I just … I’ve been having a really bad week.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really. Maybe when it’s over and I can make a joke about it without crying. Or I forget what it’s like …” Tim doesn’t finish his sentence. Steph waits, but it never comes.

Instead, Damian appears in the hall, with his backpack dragging behind him.

“Hey sweet boy,” Tim coos, quickly directing his and Steph attention to the baby. Damian runs up to his mother and jumps into his arms. “Oh! I’m gonna miss you so much, baby.”

“Where goin’?” Damian asks.

“Uh, you’re amazing Aunt Steph is gonna take you out for ice cream and pizza and we’re gonna build a fort and watch movies!” Steph says, sweeping Damian quickly from Tim’s arms. Tim wants to snatch him back.

Steph is littering kisses across Damian’s cheeks and he’s giggling.

“Fort?” Damian asks.

“Yeah, how does that sound? Auntie Cass will be there too,” she says.

Damian nods and looks back to his mother. “Bye Mommy.”

“Bye baby,” Tim replies, his voice breaking a little as he waves.

“See you tomorrow?” Steph confirms, picking Damian’s backpack off the floor where he dropped it.

“Yeah. Yeah. Thanks again.”

“Anytime, cutie. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

~ ~ ~

Tim is laying on his back in bed. The TV is playing an episode of _Criminal Minds_ and he doesn’t have the attention span to comprehend which one it is. Or how long it’s been since he knew. His stomach hurts like hell and his underwear feels disgusting. He’s already taken a shower, but he thinks he might need to take another one because his body is on fire and the blood pooling in his boxers is downright unpleasant. It feels a lot like his first heat, only immensely more painful. And he’s not horny. At all.

He also knows there’s no remedy for this. He can’t just shove a toy in or call someone to scent him. He has to wait it out. Wait for the fetus to pass.

Through the haze of pain, his phone rings. He fumbles to get it off the nightstand, hissing when the position change makes the pain even worse.

“Hello?” he grunts.

“ _Hey_ ,” Dick’s voice comes. “ _You_ _okay?_ ”

Tim closes his eyes. He wants to lie and just say yes, but tears prick the corners of his eyes and he whimpers. “No. No. Can …” he swallows. “Can you come over?”

“ _O-ok. Give me a half hour, ok? I’m still in Blüd._ ”

“Ok,” Tim cries. “Will you stay on the phone with me?”

“ _Of course. What should we talk about?_ ”

“Anything. I just …”

“ _S’okay. We can talk about it later. How about … oh! I know! I got an email from Jay today. He’s in Iceland and Roy’s there. Seems like they’re neglecting their duties and getting a little drunk. God you should see how fucked he looks in some of these pictures._ ”

At first, hearing about Jason hurt, but Tim finds himself laughing when Dick finishes talking.

“He’s an idiot,” Tim mumbles.

“ _An absolute dumbass._ ”

Tim rolls onto his back, readjusts the heating pad so it’s just over his uterus and grunts.

“ _You good over there?_ ”

“Just moving.”

“ _Kay. Well I’m getting in the car now. I’ll keep you on the line._ ”

~ ~ ~

Dick gets to Tim’s apartment an hour later. He lets himself in and sets groceries down in the kitchen, before going to Tim’s room to check on him.

Tim is passed out, heating pad over his stomach and a few empty bottles of water strewn around him. On his nightstand is Advil and a folded up sheet of paper. His phone is there too, with a notification from Steph telling Tim that Damian is napping and asking if she should have kept him up since it’s closer to his bedtime than usual

Dick finds the notification a little strange, but not alarming. Everything else just seems to point to Tim have a migraine or something. So Dick cleans up the water bottles and goes back to the kitchen to start cooking something up for dinner.

Tim’s kitchen has always been kind of sad. He only ever splurged on a coffee maker and a bottle warmer, everything else came from thrift stores in Gotham. Tim never believed in wasting things, didn’t understand why plates should have to match, as long as you could eat off them and had just enough silverware for him and Damian for a few days. The kitchen was never a focal point in Tim’s life. Dick was pretty sure he and Damian ate at the coffee table in the living room. But that said, it was clean. (Albeit probably from disuse, but clean nonetheless.)

It’s why the orange pill bottle by the sink catches Dick’s eye as quickly as it does.

He picks it up and looks at the label, his eyes widening. He runs back into Tim’s bedroom and shakes him awake.

“Hmm?” Tim grumbles, eyes bolting open and his face twisting up in a grimace as he sits up.

“What the fuck is this?” Dick barks, shoving the pill bottle at Tim.

Tim’s eyes get wide. He looks from the bottle to Dick and shakes his head. “You’re un-fucking-believable,” he scoffs. He lays back down and rolls on his side so he’s facing away from his brother.

“Hey!” Dick hisses, pulling hard on Tim’s shoulder. “Look at me!”

Tim jerks his arm out of Dick’s hold and stays facing away. His torso is shaking. The hair on the back of his neck is sticking. His knees are curled tight to his body.

Dick drops onto the bed, clutching the bottle in his hand.

“I know what it is,” he finally says. “Misoprostol. It’s for terminating pregnancies.”

Tim squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn’t want to think about it right now.

“Who … what happened, Tim? Why are you alone?” Dick asks, reaching out and setting a hand on Tim’s ankles. He traces over the bone with his thumb and waits.

“Doesn’t matter,” Tim finally mumbles.

“It does. You shouldn’t be alone. You have so many people you can call. You don’t _have_ to be alone.”

“I thought I could do it,” Tim whimpers. His voice is shaking. He sniffles at the end of his sentence.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” Dick keeps his voice gentle. Tim turns. “It’s ok now. I’m here. I’m not gonna leave.”

Tim nods his head and wipes his tears from his cheeks.

“Do you want anything? Some water? Some soup? I can order from that good Italian place we went to for your birthday.”

“No. No. Can you just … lay with me and watch TV?”

“Sure, yeah, I can do that. Of course.”

Dick crawls up on the bed and lays along the edge, Tim scooting over a bit so there’s room. He lays his arm over Tim’s chest and grabs his bicep. He squeezes it assuringly and starts rubbing the skin under his arm with his thumb like he had been his ankle.

~ ~ ~

Around an hour after Dick got to his apartment, Tim’s pain has started to become almost unbearable.

“What can I do?” Dick asks.

“Can you … rub my back?”

Dick reaches out and grabs either side of Tim’s hips. Tim is laying on his stomach with the heating pad between him and the bed, trying to relieve some of the pressure. Once Dick’s thumbs are digging into the divots of his lower back, he’s groaning and sighing in relief. He’s not entirely relaxed, but the massage helps.

A few minutes later, Dick stops, and Tim goes back to his position curled up on his side, this time facing Dick.

“If I ask you a question, will you promise not to hit me?” Dick asks.

Tim shrugs. “I guess it depends on the question. Shoot.”

“Ok. Um … you … did you … did you and Jason have sex?”

Tim’s shoulders go taut and he has to take a big deep breath. “Was a while ago. Not his baby.”

It’s a lie, but Tim knows that Dick would want to tell Jason about it if he knew. Tim wasn’t ready to face Jason about this. Dick obviously doesn’t believe him, knows Tim’s tells too well, but doesn’t press the matter.

“Oh. Ok. I just thought … I don’t know what I thought.”

“We were together?” Tim offers.

“I guess so. He just asks about you a lot. And you’re always smiling when he’s in town.”

“He’s a good guy.”

“He’s … yeah. He’s a good guy.”

“Do you not this so?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to. I thought you and Jason worked out whatever issues you had?”

“We did! I just … uhg, I don’t know.”

“Dick.”

“Fine! You wanna know what I think? I think that Jason is a sleezebag who only cares about himself. I think that the only reason he was nice to you was so he could get in your pants and obviously it hurt you. I think … God I just wanna fucking … Gahhhh!”

“He’s not a sleezebag. He cares about me.”

“He fucking doesn’t or else he would be here right now.”

“I … I didn’t tell him. That I was terminating. Or that I was even pregnant.”

“Wha—why not?”

“He … he shouldn’t have to worry about me. He’s living his life. I don’t want him to feel tied to Gotham and I especially don’t want to be the reason he feels obligated to come back.”

“But—”

“I don’t want him here!”

“Fine! Fine. I won’t tell him. I won’t say anything.”

“Damn right.”

Dick falls back on the bed. After a moment of silence he looks back to Tim.

“Can I ask one more thing?”

“Promise it won’t make me wanna hit you?”  
  


“Why did you decide this? I thought … Well you had Dami.”

“He’s part of it. Damian is everything to me. He’s … he’s all I want. At least, right now. Maybe when I’m older, maybe when I settle down and life is a little less chaotic and I forget about what it was like to be pregnant with Damian and … _this._ ”

“Will you ever tell him?”

“Someday, maybe I will. But I can’t right now. He’s … he’ll wanna come back and take care of me, try and be there and talk about it. You know, he’s a good person. I don’t care what you say.”

“I … I know he’s a good person, I just … I don’t think he always does the right thing.”

“Fair.”

Tim moves closer to Dick and settles his head on Dick’s shoulder.

“I’m ok with this, you know. Fully support an omega’s right to choose,” Dick says.

Tim laughs. “I know you do. That’s why I let you come over.”

“Thanks for that.”

“Thanks for coming.”

“I’ll always be here, Tim. You gotta know that. We’re all here for you.”

“I know.” He does. He’s been reminded that there are people who love him, who will rally behind him and support him no matter what. Even if sometimes he forgets.


End file.
